Lost
by Zelland
Summary: It's been 10 years since she last saw him, but Bria's sure Han hasn't changed a bit. AUish, Han/Leia.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, Bria to A. C. Crispin - I think that's how that works.**

**A/N: I was reading the Han Solo Trilogy and had to get some Bria-hate off my chest.**

* * *

Bria Tharen's breath caught in her chest. She instinctively lifted a hand to tug her hood further over her head, making absolutely sure her face and hair were completely covered. She silently battled the urge to bolt, her legs twitching involuntarily as she inhaled slowly. The time for running was past. If she moved now she'd only draw his attention.

_Their attention. _

Bria closed her eyes as she silently chided herself for her slip in diction. It had been over a decade, but she still could not get used to the idea of Han Solo as one half of a "they."

Opening her eyes, she peeked around the corner of her hood. They were walking, no, strolling was more like it, along one of the flat stone paths that wound thorough the gardens of the public park. As a General of the New Republic and the Minister of the State, Bria had expected they would have their own gardens, not have to resort to walking through one of the numerous plazas in the upper levels of Coruscant to see the flowers. Stumbling across the couple _here _was completely… unexpected…

Bria could barely finish the thought as a voice inside her head piped up. _Don't lie, _it whispered, _you've been hoping to catch sight of him for months._ _Isn't that the reason you've been hanging round on this dingy planet for as long as you have? Why else would you have sped halfway across the galaxy after that run-in with the old smuggler in the Moshdine Sector if not to find him? It's all been for him. He's all you think about…_

Bria blinked her unfocused eyes, scowling at herself, and turned her attention back to the wandering couple.

Han. She couldn't quite believe it, he didn't seem to have aged a day. His laugh lines, perhaps, were more pronounced, but his hair was as thick and as dark as it had ever been. His posture, always remarkable for a man who spent half his time in a pilot's seat, was still impeccable; his shoulder's still straight as he towered over every other sentient in the gardens. Either the years had been kind to Han Solo, or he was simply too stubborn to give in to the effects of aging.

Bria smiled in spite of herself as half-forgotten memories of Han's "kiss-my-rear" attitude towards the universe flooded her mind. She gazed at him for several long moments, then slid her eyes to the person next to him.

The woman (_his wife_, the voice corrected her primly) was small, at least a foot shorter than Han. Her diminutive stature, however, was in no way reflected in the manner in which she carried herself. With her shoulders back and her chin held high, every movement seemed to be a testament, a reminder, of the high political position she held in the New Republic. It was a proud walk. A little brazen, perhaps, but at the same time flowing and graceful.

_She's royalty of some sort_, Bria recalled. _Princess of Alderaan, that was it. And her name… what was her name?_ Bria slid her bottom lip through her teeth as she raked her brain. _Something florally. Lily, Lavender, Laurier…"_

Bria watched the woman absentmindedly. She had tipped her head back in laughter at something Han had said, and the sound floated across the promenade. It was a clear laugh. Not particularly tinkling or high, but lilting.

_Leia! _Bria's fingers, folded in the sleeves of her robe, snapped as she remembered the woman's name. _Princess Leia Organa of the Royal House of Alderaan. _

Bria's blue eyes rested for a moment on Leia's face. Then they slowly moved downward to the hoverpram the woman was pushing along in front of her. The elegantly designed silver buggy had two seats – room enough for two children – and yet the only thing it held, as far as Bria could tell, was a pile of blankets. The babies were bundled up in what appeared to be every quilt the couple owned. Wrapped and enfolded in innumerable layers, their parents had clearly stopped at nothing to make sure their children were not chilled by the biting breeze and iron grey skies that marked the beginning of winter on the capital planet of Coruscant. Bria squinted slightly at the hovering pram, and could just make out a tiny mittened hand protruding from the blankets in front seat. She smiled slightly.

Bria knew, had heard along with the rest of the galaxy, that the Minister of the State had given birth to twins, and she had always been perfectly aware that Han was the father. Yet seeing the children, not more than ten meters away, stirred something within her. An emotion – was it disbelief?, dejection?, bitterness? – rose in her chest. To see them with her own eyes, alive and in the flesh, seemed to confirm that which she had been refusing to accept for years – Han Solo was gone. In every sense of the word, as it applied to her, he was gone.

Bria felt her heart constricting slowly as she watched the couple. Leia laughed again. Han smiled, then put his arm around her shoulders, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek. And in that unadorned movement Bria felt her resolve, so carefully and meticulously built up over the countless years, come crashing down.

She gasped for breath, feeling as if she had been hit in the stomach. She had seen them together, of course – Han and Leia. They were always on the news. As Minister of the State, she was routinely making speeches, addressing the public, or at some press conference or another; and he was always with her. He was always by her side. She had seen clips of them together, footage aired as interest pieces in a station's attempt to wrap up their news broadcast on a cheerful note. It would be reported that "prominent political figures attended such-and-such gala last night," or "leaders of the New Republic support so-and-so in his work with the something-or-other nonprofit organization," and there they would be - sitting next to each other at dinner, perusing an auction at a charity event, or seated amongst the audience at ceremonies and speeches made by puffed-up political diplomats.

But Bria had never seen them really and truly _together. _She had never caught a glimpse of them away from the public eye; so relaxed, so normal, and so palpably in love. Bria felt her eyes prick with tears as she followed their leisurely process among the flowerbeds. Yet as brokenhearted as she felt, she recognized the presence of something else interwoven with the searing pain in her chest. There was a slight tingling sensation in the back of her throat as she watched them walk, and when Leia leaned her head into Han's shoulders, a new wave of emotion suddenly coursed through her body.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the small voice spoke up, admonishing her for being so spiteful, but Bria firmly ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on Leia as the words floated across her mind: _that should have been me_.

It should have been _she _who was strolling happily among the reds, golds, and browns of the late autumn flowers. Should have been _her_ shoulders around which Han's arm was draped, and _her_ children bundled in the pram.

It should have been _her_ life, not Leia Organa's.

_Ah, but it is her life, _the voice she had so resolutely shushed hummed in her ear. _They _are _her children, and he _is _her husband, and it's no use hating her for it._

"I don't hate her," Bria mumbled to herself through numb lips. As quickly as it had come, she felt her sudden anger ebb away to be replaced with seeping guilt for her impulsively hateful thoughts.

_Oh yes you do, _her subconscious replied. _You hate her for having what you don't have, what you _could _have had. It was all within your grasp. He loved you, he wanted to marry you, and you rejected him._

"I di-did it for his own good," Bria gasped, the compressing feeling in her chest deepening.

_But then you did it again. Again he was yours, and again you pushed him away. You double-crossed him. You stabbed him in the back. He loved you. He was the only man you ever loved. And you _betrayed _him._

Tears seeped from beneath Bria's eyelashes_._ "For the Rebellion," she whispered.

_The Rebellion, _hissed the voice, _look at what the Rebellion did to you. What good has come from putting yourself on the line for them? The Rebellion focused on their cause, and considered anyone lost in pursuit of it an unfortunate sacrifice. Regrettable, maybe, but nothing more than what was to be expected. What was necessary. You should have known they'd only do the same to you. After all, look at the way you treated your own men. You gave up everything for the Rebellion. You gave up _Han_. And look at how they repaid you. Now you're stuck with the consequences._

Bria pressed trembling fingers to her lips, but could not prevent a small sob from escaping. Much as she tried to deny it, the rational portion of her brain was right. However this was no time to argue moot points with herself. Han and Leia were approaching the bench upon which she sat, wrapped in her cloak, and she had to move lest she risk being recognized.

They were less than four meters from her as she got to her feet. She was careful not to move too suddenly so as not to attract their attention. She folded her hands into her long sleeves and resolutely turning away from Han and his wife.

Bria had taken six steps in the opposite direction when she stopped. Hesitating for no more than a fraction of a second, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. _One last look at Han, _she thought. _One last look and I'll leave this planet for good. I'll stop lurking in parks and outside of doors in hopes of seeing him, I swear to all the powers in the universe. But just one last look…_

She stood very still and rotated her upper body to the left, only slightly, but just enough so that she could see him. A clear view of him, straight on, and without the obstruction of her hood.

At that moment, a particularly strong gust of wind whipped through the plaza, rustling the leaves of the flowers and the trees, and pulling at the hair and coats of the sentients strolling through the gardens. Before she was fully aware of what was happening, Bria felt her hood being tugged back from her head. She clutched at it desperately, but it was too late. Her long, bright red hair spilled out and was caught up in the breeze, lashing around her face as it was pulled, twisting and turning, towards the steel-grey clouds that scuttled across the sky.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Han freeze.

Using both hands to grab her treacherous hair, she desperately shoved it back down the neck of her cloak, but the damage was done.

For a moment she contemplated running. Perhaps he wouldn't know it was her. But as she glanced up, their eyes met, and she could no sooner have run than sprung into the air and flown away.

The world around her ceased to exist. The rushing of the wind was quieted, and the edges of her eyes darkened as she focused her entire body, her entire entity, on him. For the first time in over ten years, Bria stared into Han Solo's eyes, and he stared right back into hers.

His wife, noticing the change in her husband, had also stopped and was looking curiously up at him. Following his gaze, her eyes came to rest on Bria. Her face was impassive, and as Bria tore her eyes away from Han to glance at her, she couldn't tell whether the woman knew who she was or not.

For several long moments, the three humans stood immobilized in the middle of the blustery plaza.

It was Bria who moved first. After a fast and furious internal debate, she had decided that the best course of action was to approach him. Because in all honesty, what good would running do her? And it had been so long since she'd seen him…

_But, _the losing (and the rational) side of her brain protested, as she started towards the couple, _what was it he said the last time you saw him? "If I ever see you again, I'll shoot you on sigh." What about that? _

Bria's eyes swept automatically to Han's side. Yes, he carried a blaster. Slung low in its holster, just like he'd always used to wear it.

She was standing in front of them now. Her eyes were fixed on Han's, and the emotion in the Corellian's eyes was difficult to read. There was shock, undoubtedly, but something else as well. Anger, perhaps. Hostility. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: Han Solo was by no means pleased to see her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leia's weight shift. It was so insignificant a movement that Bria did not automatically register it. The Minister moved her small arm, ever so slightly, to give her husband a gentle nudge in the ribs. Han started, his head jerking slightly to the right in a nervous twitch, but his eyes never left Bria's face. He raised his right hand to his mouth (his left arm was still around his wife's shoulders) and cleared his throat. Then, with obvious effort, he spoke her name.

"Bria," he said, "how…erm… nice – how nice to see you," he cleared his throat again.

Bria felt her heart melt as her fell from name left his lips. Oh how she'd missed him.

Her lips parted slightly. "Han," she whispered.

There was another long silence. Han had broken eye contact when she'd spoken his name, and was staring determinedly at the ground. Bria's eyes never moved from his face as she watched him fidget slightly, tightening his hold on his wife.

"Bria Tharen, isn't it?"

Bria jumped, her eyes swiveling to Leia who had extended her hand to the red-haired girl. _Damn it all, she knows who I am, _Bria thought. Though why she considered that a bad thing, she was not entirely sure.

"Erm, yes, Bria Tharen," Bria said, taking the woman's proffered hand and shaking it, "How do you do?"

Han's wife nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet you Bria. I am Leia Organa Solo."

Bria released the woman's hand. The front of her mind was quelling under the name that had dropped from the woman's lips. It seemed to hang in the air in front of her, taunting her. _Organa Solo. _But somewhere in the far, far back of her mind she marveled at the strength of the woman's handshake. It was surprisingly resilient, especially for someone of her height.

Close up, Bria felt what she had sensed from across the square. Leia, although small in height, was not a person to trifle with. There was an aura around her that seemed to radiate power, and Bria could tell, without having to see Leia draw a blaster, that the Princess of Alderaan was a force to be reckoned with.

Leia was speaking again. Bria gave her head a tiny shake and focused her eyes on her ex-boyfriend's wife.

"Han has told me a great deal about you," Leia said, "it's nice to finally meet you."

Leia was smiling at her. _Han has told her a great deal about me? _Bria thought. She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Bria's eyes searched Leia's face for signs of any unfriendly or antagonistic emotions, but the woman's delicate features were perfectly devoid of anything other than polite and pleasant interest.

"Erm," it was Bria's turn to clear her throat, "thank you." She volunteered a small smile in Leia's direction, then turned her light eyes back to Han.

Expecting to find him examining the ground, she was slightly startled to look up to find him staring directly into her face. She blinked. The shock and surprise that had adorned his countenance upon first seeing her was gone. Han's expression was stony. There was none of the trademark sparkle in his eyes, and no trace of a smile upon his lips. He stared at Bria coldly, and she thought she could see a hint of hate and disgust in the way his eyes narrowed as she looked up at him.

_Well, what did you expect? _her subconscious asked. _Did you think he would welcome you back with open arms? Don't forget, you used him._

Bria took a breath. "It's good to see you, Han," she said, "it's been a long time."

Han nodded tersely, his eyes not leaving her face. "Yes it has," he said.

Leia was watching her husband closely out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes flickered to Bria at Han's words, and she saw the girl cringe slightly at the harshness in them.

"Bria," she said.

Bria jumped. Again. She looked down at Leia, who was regarding her almost thoughtfully, as if trying to make up her mind about something.

"Bria," Leia said, "I'm awfully sorry, but you've caught us just as we were heading home." She gestured to the pram, "it's getting a too cold out for the children."

Bria felt her shoulders droop. She had wanted to talk to Han, just a bit more. She did not want to part with him on such hostile terms.

_You don't want to part with him at all._

The princess was watching her carefully. With a glance at her husband, who was still glaring at Bria, she continued. "Perhaps you would like to join us for a bit? You and Han could have a chance to catch up, and," she smiled, "I can always make an extra pot of tea."

Bria stared at her, vaguely aware that her mouth was hanging slightly open. But desperate as she was for any time she could spend with Han, regardless of who it was offered by, she nodded hastily. "Yes, that sounds nice, thank you," she said.

Leia smiled at her. Han, who was gaping at his wife in absolute incredulity, made a small noise in the back of his throat. Leia shot him a warning glance, but ran her thumb encouragingly over his arm. Han pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, his eyes still wide with disbelief. With a sigh he turned to Bria, and spoke with a voice much softened.

"Our flat is just down this way," he, inclined his head slightly down the promenade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: It still belongs to George. **

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Bria could not remember a time when she had been more uncomfortable. The trip down the outer walkway and up six stories in the turbolift could not have taken more than five minutes, but to Bria it felt like an eternity.

She had tried in vain to make small talk, commenting on how she had been surprised to see them in the public plaza as she had assumed they would have a flower garden of their own. She realized she had hit a dead end when Han raised an eyebrow and said with a half-smile, "We do."

Thus, Bria stepped through the front door of Han and Leia's flat in general discomfort. She was almost regretting her impulsive acceptance of Leia's invitation to tea, dully noting that if she felt awkward now, a conversation with the couple over biscuits would only increase her discomfiture. But (and she felt ridiculous admitting it, even to herself) she was still far too in love with Han to turn down any opportunity to spend time with him.

Bria looked around her as Han and Leia removed their outerwear. The entrance hall was bright and cheery, and painted a very light blue. It opened into a spacious sitting room, beyond which a hallway led, she could only assume, to the bedrooms. A kitchen connected to the sitting room, and through a doorway off to the side Bria could just make out a formal dining room.

Her attention was drawn back to the couple in front of her at the sound of Han's laughter. He had his coat draped over his arm and Leia's hat clutched in his hand, which he had evidentially just tugged from her head, causing her hair to stand up in all directions.

Leia rolled her eyes, but smiled good-humoredly as she smoothed her small hands over her hair. She then handed her coat to her husband and turned to the pram. Han moved towards the small closet off the side of the hall, but hesitated, turned, and held out his hand to Bria.

"Can I get your coat, Bria?" he asked.

For reasons that escaped her, Bria flushed as she nodded and slipped her cloak off her shoulders. She handed it to Han, who then turned wordlessly to hang it in the closet.

"I think we're going to have to have tea in the dining room," Leia said as she knelt on the floor in front of the pram, pulling the mittens off her twins, both of whom had fallen asleep. "The front room is covered in paperwork at the moment."

She smiled up at Bria as Han kicked off his boots by the door with loud thunks. "We're looking for a flat with an office when we move. That way we won't have to resort to working in the front room."

"You're moving?" Bria jumped at the opportunity to break the silence.

Leia nodded, now moving to unbuckle the straps around the baby in the front seat. "We'll need more room as the twins get bigger."

"They really are adorable," Bria said, her red hair falling around her face in a curtain as she bent down for a closer inspection of the babies. Both of the children had dark brown hair and thick eyelashes that curled where they brushed their chubby cheek. Apart from their hair, the girl's being slightly curlier than her brother's, they were practically identical.

"How old are they?" Bria asked, straightening up as Han moved forward to claim one of his children.

"Almost nine months," Leia said. Having divested her son of his coat, hat and mittens, she lifted him gently from the pram and got to her feet. "If you'd like to go into the dining room, Bria," she said, nodding towards the kitchen, "Han and I will be right in. We just have to put them in bed."

Bria nodded and tried to smile at Leia as she turned to make her way across the sitting room and down the hall. She then turned her eyes back to Han.

Stripped down to a dark blue jumper and Coruscanti-style pants, he bent at the waist and lifted his sleeping daughter from the pram. Bria swallowed over a lump in her throat as he cooed to her while following his wife's path across the room.

"Oooh, Jaini," she heard him murmur as he disappeared down the hall, "are you sleepy?"

Bria felt her hands shake slightly as she was left standing alone in the entrance hall. _You shouldn't have come here, _her ever-present conscience whispered, _you wanted closure, but seeing him with her is only going to make it worse. He's got a whole different life now, and it's too late for you to be a part of it. Leave before you hurt yourself any further. _Bria pursed her trembling lips and shook her head. Taking a careful step into the sitting room, she looked around.

She felt an aching twang in her heart as she took in the room. Even as she had watched them walk through the plaza, his arm around her shoulders, even as she watched him laugh, saw his fingers brush her cheek, saw their _children_, she had held onto a thread of hope, conceived out of nothing but a decade of longing, that maybe, just _maybe, _if the powers-that-be had any compassion for her, Han and Leia weren't really as in love as they seemed.

She felt a fiber in her last remaining and desperately frayed hope-thread snap as she looked around the sitting room. Evidence of their togetherness, proof of their intertwined lives, wove and crisscrossed throughout the space. It crept up the pale yellow walls in the form of favorite pictures framed and hung – pictures of them together at informal parties, on holidays, their wedding, their children, their extended family. The reality of it all swirled around Bria in a haze. Everywhere she turned there was another one. Han with his arm around her, or kissing her on the cheek; Leia sitting in his lap, leaning over his shoulders with her arms around his neck, or reaching up so that her pale hand cupped his face.

Bria's breathing shallowed as her eyes moved around the room. There was his jumper draped over the arm of the sofa; her slippers pushed under the coffee table; two empty mugs sitting on the floor near the couch. She could discern two distinctly different types of handwriting on the numerous papers spread in some ostensible order across the floor: the loopy, slanting calligraphy of the Alderaanian princess, and the hasty and untidy scrawl of the Corellian smuggler. She could see instances where Leia had apparently reached over to scribble a note in the side margins of Han's documents. Their two conspicuously different scripts overlapped each other, and their separate papers were so shuffled together in piles that Bria couldn't tell where Leia's workspace ended and Han's began.

She felt another strand of her thread of hope snap, and Bria sensed that if it broke completely, her resolve would go with it.

- - -

In the back bedroom Leia settled a blanket over her small son's sleeping form as her husband lay their daughter in the crib opposite. Pausing for a moment to watch her sleep, Han sighed and turned to find Leia surveying him.

"Well?" she said.

Han ran a hand wearily over his face. "I really don't know," he said. "Usually I think you're ideas are crazy, sweetheart, but –" he spread his arms in a gesture of incomprehension, "this is a bit overboard, even for you."

Leia huffed slightly in amusement and, taking advantage of his open arms, stepped into them. She twined her own around his back and rested her head against him. "I was thinking," she said, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his shirt, "of you."

Han tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Leia pulled back slightly to look into his face, "if you had seen her today, and we had said goodbye in the plaza, imagine how you would have felt. Old friends don't come back from the dead every day –"

"She's not a friend," Han interrupted in slight indignation.

"I know," Leia said gently, "but wouldn't it still have haunted you?"

Han blinked, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Aren't you just a little curious as to what happened to her?" Leia continued, "Why she's been presumed dead for the last ten years?"

Han grimaced slightly and Leia smiled. "I only thought," she said, "that you might appreciate some answers from her. I didn't want this to trouble you. And," she shrugged her thin shoulders, "if it were me, I'd want some closure."

Han looked down at her for a long moment, his expression indecipherable. Then he bent his head and kissed her softly. Drawing back, he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"I love you, you know," he said softly.

Leia smiled. "I know."

- - -

"Do you like Ansionian tea, Bria, or would you prefer something different?" Leia asked, sticking her head and shoulder halfway around the dining room door.

"Oh no, Ansionian tea is fine, thank you," Bria said swiftly, attempting to prevent the astonishment from seeping into her voice. She hadn't had Ansionian tea in… she couldn't remember how long. Since she'd left Corellia, she supposed.

Leia smiled and came fully through the door, bearing a tray of tea and biscuits. She placed it upon the table and then chose a seat across from Bria, next to her husband, who promptly took her hand as she settled herself beside him. There was awkward silence for a moment, Bria staring at Han as he determinedly examined the table, Leia's eyes flicking back and forth between them.

Once again it was the princess turned diplomat that broke through the cool, uncomfortable stillness.

"So, Bria," she said, "do you live on Coruscant, or are you just visiting?"

Bria's bright blue eyes darted up to meet Leia's. She swallowed. "No, I don't live here. I was just visiting some… friends," she cleared her throat uneasily.

The girl hesitated, and the silence threatened to engulf them once again. In a clear effort to keep the conversation moving, Leia dipped her head encouragingly and said, "Are you planning on staying on-planet for a while? I've always thought Coruscant was exceptionally beautiful at Kestmas."

Bria's lips twitched into a half-smile. "No," she said, "unfortunately I have to leave in –" she faltered, glancing at Han whose eyes stayed trained on the table, "well, I have to leave soon."

_On the next transport out of here, _she added silently.

Leia nodded her comprehension, and seemed about to pose another question when she suddenly stopped. She scooted her chair back, and with a squeeze of her husband's hand – that did not go unnoticed by Bria – rose to her feet.

"I'm sorry Bria, you'll have to excuse me, the twins are up." She favored the red-haired girl with a soft smile and hurried through the door.

Han stared after her. Bria stared at Han.

When he didn't break the silence, she glanced around the room.

"There's no babycomm in here, is there?" she asked him.

He shook his head a silent negative.

"Then how does she know –"

"It's just this thing she does," Han sighed, turning back to the table.

Bria bit her lip as he fixed his eyes on her. Her heart sped to twice it's natural rate, and as she looked into his hazel eyes she felt as if her insides had liquefied under his gaze.

"Why did you come back, Bria?"

Her jaw tensed and she blinked, slightly startled by his candidness. She opened her mouth, prepared to elaborate on her just-visiting-friends cover, but found she couldn't get the words out. Han might argue the claim, but she'd always had trouble lying to him.

Bria pursed her lips and felt tears in her eyes once again as she looked at him. "I – for you. I had to see you," she whispered, dropping her eyes to the table.

Han sat, silent and motionless, his face devoid of any emotion, and as Bria raised her eyes to his expressionless ones, she felt a stab in her heart. She pressed on, though the voice in her head was screaming at her to stop. She had to tell him, had to make him understand.

"I met this old smuggler, out in the Moshdine System," her voice was choked with the tears she refused to let fall, "he said he knew you, or – had known you. He said he knew where you where, and if I wanted to find you I only had to go back to the Core Worlds, that it wouldn't be too hard from there on out."

She drew a shaky breath. Han's expression had changed slightly, and he stared at her in slight incomprehension.

"You – you didn't know what happened to me?" he asked.

Bria shook her head, her lips pressed together against a sob.

Han exhaled softly and leaned back in his chair. "Not to sound conceited or anything, Bria," he said, "but I haven't exactly been living under a rock here. Especially not in the past three years."

He was referring to his marriage. His high-profile marriage and the birth of his twins. Well, he was right. The whole galaxy knew him. And his wife.

Bria smiled faintly. "Well, you know how long it takes anything to reach the Outer Rim, Han," she said, "but you're right. It was me, really. I – I was watching the latest holonews reports that had come in to Tarabba Prime a couple of years ago, and I saw you." She laughed rather humorlessly. "I saw that you had married the Minister of the State of the New Republic and," she shrugged, "I just didn't want to know any more after that. I pretty much avoided any holonews programmes until I hear about your twins by word of mouth. Then," she smiled sheepishly, "I watched them religiously. I just – I wanted to know about your life, what you did with yourself…"

She trailed off, biting her lip and looking slightly horrified at the information she had let herself relay – the admittance that she had never really gotten over him, that she was still hopelessly in love with him.

Han was observing her silently, and she squeezed her eyes shut against his stare. They snapped open again when he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his chair back so that it balanced on two legs.

"I heard you'd died," he said.

It wasn't a question, but she had an answer anyways.

"Well yes, that was the official statement," Bria said. "I was on that – that mission for the Rebellion, and my entire squad was wiped out by the Imps. I was hurt, but alive. The only one alive."

Her eyes had darkened. "But I managed to escape and I made my way back to the Rebellion. Only when I got there I was messed up. It's –" she swallowed, "it's not an easy thing to see your men slaughtered around you, and the doctors said I was suffering from – what was it – Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder… something like that."

She looked at Han to make sure he was listening, and continued. "So the Rebellion kept me in hospital for a while, and then, when they thought I had recovered, sent me back to receive my orders for my next mission. But I refused. I said I didn't want to go on any more missions, see any more men die, and they basically gave me an honorable discharge." She sighed, "They said it was because I wasn't well, but I knew it was because they didn't have a use for me anymore. I couldn't help them towards their cause, so they got rid of me. But," she chuckled humorlessly again, "that's the Rebellion for you."

An echoing silence followed her speech. Han let his chair fall to the floor, and Bria found that he was watching her with something that was almost disgust etched across his face.

"I was with the Rebellion, you know," Han said, "I was there when the first Death Star was destroyed, and I led the team that disabled the energy shield to blow up the second."

Bria's blue eyes widened in disbelief. No, she hadn't known that.

_Well fancy that, Han Solo a hero._

Han smiled slightly, but his hazel eyes were still tinted with aversion.

"Did – was your – Leia was in the Rebellion too, wasn't she?" Bria asked quietly.

Han nodded, "Yeah, she was part of the High Command." Another smile tugged at his lips, but a happier smile this time, one of fond memories that Bria did not share.

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence once again, and Bria found herself wondering vaguely where Leia was. She could not seem to draw her eyes away from Han. His arms remained folded across his chest as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes returned to their haven on the table.

She loved him. She loved him more than anything. He must know that, why else would she have come across the galaxy for him? But maybe he didn't know, didn't realize. Maybe he was still sore over her betrayal on Ylesia. Didn't he understand that she'd always loved him? Even though she double-crossed him?

Tell him. She had to tell him. She had to make him see…

_Stop! _her conscience cried, _don't do this! You'll regret this! You'll regret it! He doesn't love you, he's with someone else, can't you _see _that?!_

Bria ignored it. "Han," she whispered.

His eyes flicked to her face.

"Han, I love you. That's why I came back. I've always loved you, more – more than anything."

He looked at her, his face impassive, and Bria felt her heart constrict tighter than she had ever known it to. She felt light-headed, dizzy, and he just sat there and stared at her.

Finally he moved – running a hand over his mouth, he dropped his gaze and pushed his chair back from the table. Darkness was beginning to fall outside the large window, and the lights of Coruscant were one by one flickering into life.

Bria's eyes followed Han's process to the door.

"Han," she gasped desperately.

He stopped and turned to her as she hastened to her feet. She reached out a hand to him but he ignored it, watching her face, the deadpan expression stealing the familiar light from his eyes.

Bria kept her hand extended. Her chest felt as if it had been torn open, and tears streaked down her cheeks as she looked at him through blurry eyes. Around her, the world seemed to be slipping away, and she felt as if she were free-falling through the air, nothing to stop her, no one to catch her.

"Han," she repeated his name, but it only brought another agonizing pang of anguish to her tortured heart. "Han, please, just tell me, I need to know… do you – do you feel anything for me at all anymore? Anything? Is there any of the love I used to have left in you?"

She was being dramatic, she knew it. But she'd never been more serious about anything in her entire life. Including the Rebellion.

Han stared stonily down at her for a long moment. When Bria felt she would burst from the pain induced by his silence, he spoke.

"Bria," he said, his voice cold, almost icy, "I love my wife more than anything. And," he shook his head slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, "even that's an understatement. Nothing, _nothing _I ever may have felt for you can even come close to how much I love her."

Bria was biting her lip so hard it was beginning to bleed. Her head ached from the tears she was trying desperately to restrain, and the world that had been slipping away beneath her feet was beginning to spin.

"She makes me happier than I ever imagined I could be," Han continued, his voice so cold she felt as if he had driven a frozen spike into her chest. "She is strong, and she is driven, and loving, and she is the most inherently _good _person I have ever met. You, Bria," he shook his head again, finally dropping her gaze, "you were a pretty face and a Corellian accent."

And there it was. Bria felt her heart cave in and her last thread of hope snap loudly and completely. She watched as he turned from her to leave the room. But he paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. His voice was calm, a hint regretful, maybe, that he had hurt her so deeply, but not sad or longing. Not what she wanted to hear. What she was dying to hear.

"You'll have to excuse me," he said quietly, "but Leia and I have somewhere to be tonight. I think it would be best if you left. It was – it was nice catching up, Bria. I wish you the best of luck."

And he was gone.

Bria found herself, once again, left alone in their house. Surrounded by the life they had built together, she was nothing more than a side note. While they busied themselves with their obligations of work and family, they wound around and though each other, seamlessly, effortlessly existing side by side. Together. And she was a memory in the corner, not a skeleton in the closet. Brushed aside, never forgotten, never hidden, but unheeded and overlooked. And not worried about. Because where they were, secure in their love for each other, intertwined in the life they had created around themselves, they were immovable.

Unbreakable.

- - -

When Bria had collected herself as much as she felt was possible, and wiped away the majority of the tears, she scurried quickly through the kitchen, the sitting room, to the front door.

_You are an idiot, _the voice said evenly, as she pulled on her boots. _You brought this upon yourself, you know. Did you expect him to fall into your arms when you told him you loved him? He's gone._

She extracted her coat from the closet as quietly as she could. Han had disappeared, evidently as soon as he'd escaped the dining room, and she had seen neither hide nor hair of Leia in a good half hour, since she'd excused herself to check on her children.

Hopefully it would stay that way. If she could slip out unnoticed, she could get the next transport off this horridly over-developed rock and planet-hop her way back to the Outer Rim. Away from the busy traffic of the Core Worlds, away from the noise and the buildings and the people… away from Han.

She was just tugging her cloak over her shoulders, contemplating what her next move would be (perhaps the Nembus Sector. Praadost II was supposed to be lovely this time of year, the galactic standard winter) when she heard her name.

"Are you leaving, Bria?"

Leia.

Bria was all too aware that her red, puffy eyes and runny nose betrayed her heart-break, but she couldn't muster up the will to care. She felt numb and bleak, and completely, utterly destroyed. She raised her face to Han's wife and flashed her the best smile she could assemble – weak and miserable, with pursed lips to stop her chin from quivering.

"Yes, I'm afraid I have to go. Thank you for tea, though, it was lovely to – to talk to you."

Leia Organa Solo, Bria decided, was entirely too perceptive for her own good. The small, dark haired woman nodded almost sadly as she looked into Bria's face, as if she was all too aware of what had transpired between her and her husband. Although, admittedly, Bria wasn't doing such a great job of hiding her pain.

Maybe because it was too much to hide.

"Thank you for joining us, Bria," Leia said softly, "I wish you the best of luck."

Just like her husband.

Bria nodded and pulled her cloak the rest of the way up her shoulders. She had opened the door and was just about to step into the corridor outside, when she turned.

"Leia," she said, her voice so low she could barely hear it herself, "just, don't – don't take it for granted, okay? You don't know how lucky you are."

Dark brown met light blue as Leia's large eyes looked into Bria's.

"Actually," Leia said softly, "I do."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry, that was rather harsh - I feel a bit bad now.  
**

**Anyone kind enough to review gets an invitation to tea with the character of their choice**


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